In Memoriam
by Fantasygirl721
Summary: “Welcome Marcus,” he whispered, “you are what we are fighting for. You are the Resistance.” John Connor, Post-Salvation.


Disclaimer: Yes, I own Terminator. I also own Christian Bale. Note the sarcasm.

A/N: Saw Terminator Salvation for the second time today and just had to write this. I thought that some closure was necessary. Warning, huge spoilers for the movie.

Summary: We will keep fighting, your sacrifice is not in vain. John Connor, Post-Salvation.

_**In Memoriam**_

The soft sound of beeping was all he could hear. Glancing across the room, he saw the steady line of the EKG, measuring his heart rate as it ploughed steadily on. The pain diminished incrementally each day, but he still felt as if his chest had been cracked open and sewn back together. This is in fact what had happened.

"Can I see her yet?" His voice sounded unnaturally harsh even to his own ears. His personal guard, as he had taken to calling her, looked up from the gun she had been cleaning. Ignoring the sharp pain, he pushed himself up onto his elbow. "Well?"

Blair looked at her leader, haggard in his hospital bed. It had been almost a month since that transplant that had taken Marcus from her, but John Connor was still confined to bed rest. Everyday they brought the radio to him so he could make the broadcast, but otherwise he had been told to rest and only rest. "She'll be here soon enough." She returned her gaze to the partially dismantled gun, hiding the tears in her eyes.

John flopped down on his bed, instantly regretting his actions. "Damn it!" He muttered. If it wasn't enough that Marcus was gone, he knew his very presence was a constant reminder of what she had lost. Of the man she had lost. Yet she stayed with him whenever she got a chance.

Moments passed in awkward silence before he spoke again. "Blair." She politely ignored him. "Williams!" Her hands trembled, but no more. "Goddamnit! I want to see my wife! My kid!"

"Well you can't," she calmly replied. "You are not going to move until you are one hundred percent better." Clicking the last piece into the place, she held the gun up to feel its balance.

He snarled in response, "It's been a month; it doesn't take this long to recover from a heart transplant."

"Actually, in your case it does!" She snapped. John looked up; it was the first time she had raised her voice at him since his injury. "If you so much as tear your stitches," she continued, "and let an infection in, you can die." Her eyes were swimming with tears long held back, "If you die, Marcus' sacrifice will be in vain."

"So that's what's bothering you." He closed his eyes, almost wishing that he hadn't accepted the machine's…no the man's offer. It wasn't fair to Marcus who had just proved that he was just as human as the rest of them. Now he was dead so John Connor could live. "I'm sorry Blair." She nodded softly, and he saw the tear roll slowing down her cheek. "You loved him."

"I don't know," was her quiet response. Flipping her hair back, she wiped her face quickly. "I could have, but now it's too late." She stood quickly, dropping the gun on at her feet. "If you promise to stay still, I'll go check on Kate."

John gave a brief nod, and she walked swiftly out of the room. Though her step was sure, he could now see the weight she had been carrying. His hand drifted to his chest, feeling the cool metal of his wedding band against the scar. In normal circumstances the scar would fade, but this wasn't a normal time, and he would bear the memento all his life.

Under his hand, the heart beat strong and sure. It wasn't his heart, but it was giving him life. It was the heart of a machine that he imprisoned, hunted, and feared. It was the heart of the man who had saved his life twice, who had gone far out of his way to save the life of his father, Kyle Reese. It was the heart of Marcus Wright, who was not a member of the Resistance, but the man who saved it. It was Marcus' heart that pumped the blood through his veins.

Though his eyes were squeezed shut, he felt the warmth leak. Raising his hand from heart to cheek, he realized he was crying. He couldn't remember the last time he cried; he had grown so accustomed to the death and despair that hardly anything touched him these days. Staring at the wet drops on his fingertips, he realized that he was still human.

The door opened, and there was Blair, pushing Kate in a wheelchair. Kate looked exhausted, but was radiantly beautiful as she cradled the small bundle in her arms. John's heart clenched, because of Marcus he was there to be a father to his child. Parking the wheelchair as close as possible to John's bed, Blair stepped aside to give the couple some privacy.

"Look John," Kate said softly, placing the bundle in his arms. "Isn't he beautiful? He's already got your eyes."

He watched the little baby squirm in his grasp, reaching for him with little fingers. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he turned to his radiant wife. "Yeah, he is. Must take after you."

She chuckled at his small joke, leaning over to capture his mouth in hers. Laying her head on his shoulder, they watched their son drift to sleep while listening to the beat of his father's heart. "What should we name him?"

With his eyes locked on Blair's, he responded without hesitation. "Marcus." Blair looked surprised for a moment, but a quiet happiness appeared in her eyes. Nodding, she stepped from the room.

"Yes," Kate said, drawing John's attention back to her. "That's a fine name, Marcus Connor."

Placing a soft kiss on his son's head, John made a promise to Marcus' memory. _We will keep fighting, your sacrifice is not in vain. _

"Welcome Marcus," he whispered, "you are what we are fighting for. You are the Resistance."

Fin


End file.
